


Felix Canis

by AGJ1990



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-11-24 11:10:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18164435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGJ1990/pseuds/AGJ1990
Summary: After a hunt for a witch goes wrong, John gets an interesting chance to see what Sam really thinks about him. And the results aren't quite what he expected. A little funnier than my normal John/Sam stories.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me.

John had left the house feeling like a disappointment. Again. It was nothing new, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt every single time. To see that look on Sam’s face, the one of betrayal and hurt that flickered between the rage and the hidden question of why don’t I matter to you as much as everyone else burrowed into John’s soul every time he saw it. John wanted desperately to grab Sam and hold him and tell him, over and over until Sam felt it deep in the recesses of his heart, that everything John ever did was for him. That when he did miss things like Sam’s birthday or Christmas or the play that he’d stupidly promised Sam he would attend and then backed out at the last minute to go on this hunt, it caused him pain too. He wanted to see those things. He wanted to make Sam happy by being involved and being there for him. He wanted that.

He had patiently explained all of this to Sam, who of course didn’t take it well. Explaining patiently had eventually turned into the ten thousandth fight he and Sam had ever had. He’d cuffed the back of Sam’s head when Sam had shouted with tears in his eyes that you could see if anyone will take the hunt but you just don’t want to because it would make me happy. The words you promised and the hunt comes first and I’m not going to not save people because it will mess up your social life and because I said so were now so automatic they were thrown around without thinking about them. John saw the pain that Sam was trying so hard not to feel, but he had to drive the point home. People were dying. That came first. It came before the birthdays, before the Christmases, before the play that Sam had worked his butt off for because he honestly believed, perhaps foolishly, that John was going to be there just because he’d promised he would be. The cautious little boy faith that his not so little anymore boy still had that maybe, just maybe, Daddy would keep his word this time and stick around and be proud of him.

Now John wished he’d just gone to the stupid play and left the witch alone. 

He missed his car right now. It had taken nearly two full days for him to travel forty miles. He was tired, he was hot, and he was hungry, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Not really. He’d stopped at a local river and drank as much water as he could stand, but that had been hours earlier. He hadn’t been able to find any fresh water since, and he wasn’t even going to try looking for food. He’d attempted to get some sleep in a local park, then in an alleyway, then in the backyard of a house, but had been chased away each time. He knew the only chance he had at the moment was getting back to the small house he’d rented on the edge of town. 

As he travelled, John filled in the time counting down the miles by thinking, again, about the fight with Sam. He actually hoped, for once, that Sam would throw out his orders. He knew that he had a better shot at it with Dean out of the house and Sam there by himself at the moment. Dean had gone with John to fight the witch, and was no doubt out looking for him right now. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. He often thought of Sam as too soft, too sensitive for his own good. That he needed to toughen up or he’d never make it in the world. But right now, he actually needed Sam’s big, compassionate heart. As the miles closed down and the house came into view, John felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He walked to the door and, out of habit, started to reach up and open it. 

Then he remembered. He couldn’t open the door. Flashbacks from the fight with the witch came back into his mind, and John cursed in his head so much that it would have made even him blush had he been able to vocalize his thoughts out loud. The reality of his situation hit him again, and it would have been comical had it happened to anyone else. If Dean had figured out what happened to John, he no doubt would have howled with laughter. At least I ganked that ugly broad, John thought. Now to fix this problem. John sighed and reached out to scratch the door, hoping to attract Sam’s attention. 

Because the ugly broad had turned him into a dog.


	2. Chapter 2

John had been scratching at the door for what felt like hours, and he was certain that some of the neighbors were going to either chase him away or call animal control soon. John was about to give up and try going to the back door, or maybe Sam’s bedroom door. Finally, the front door opened, and there stood Sam with the phone in his hand. The look on Sam’s face matched John’s surprise at the entire experience. Sam quickly recovered from the shock and turned back to the phone.

 

“Yes, Dean, I’ll be fine. Just find Dad.”

 

So Dean was out looking for him. Not that John doubted he would be, but it helped him to hear that Dean was looking. Sam hung up the phone, then bent down and reached out a hand towards John. _Towards the dog_ , John thought. _He doesn’t know it’s me_ , John reminded himself. Sam had a hopeful smile on his face, one that killed John. When he figured out what was going on, he’d have to give up the dog he’d been begging for since he was old enough to know what a dog was. The thought crossed his mind that Sam and Dean might _not_ figure out what was going on, but it was a thought he refused to indulge.

 

“Hey, buddy. Are you lost?”

 

John realized that he hadn’t made a single sound since Sam had found him. He realized he was going to have to consciously act like a dog while he was a dog. _Great,_ he thought as he started to whine.

 

“Shh. It’s okay. Come here, let’s see if you’re wearing a collar or something.”

 

John walked forward, and Sam ran a gentle hand through his fur. John was surprised. He felt calmer as Sam petted him. His back leg started to thump against the boards on the porch. _The change must be partially affecting my brain too,_ John thought.

 

“You like that, huh?” Sam asked. He scratched John’s stomach, and John’s back leg started to thump even faster. Sam smiled. “I don’t see a collar. You must be a stray.”

 

John whined a little more, laying a paw against Sam’s leg. He was partially trying to win Sam over, partially trying to get him to go back inside. Sam was completely exposed at the moment. Had he been in human form, he would have pulled Sam inside by his shirt collar, yelled and probably punished him for exposing himself that way.

 

“I wish I could keep you. But if Dad or Dean comes home I’ll be grounded for the rest of my life.”

 

 _You’ve got to be kidding. You’re gonna start listening to me NOW?_ John thought, though he couldn’t help but be just a little bit proud. Maybe Sam was finally growing up, realizing that it wasn’t fair to keep a dog in the life that they lived. It royally screwed John over, though.

 

“But they’re gonna be gone at least another day. Dean’s worried because Dad went missing after the hunt, but I think Dad’s just fine. It wouldn’t bother him to disappear and leave us worrying about him. So you come on inside. I’ll find you something to eat and get you some water.”

 

John had thought he’d be relieved when Sam brought him inside, but what he’d said stung John. Did Sam really believe that? Did he really think John would just disappear on him for no reason?

 

“It’s okay. Come on.”

 

John had been frozen by Sam’s declaration, but Sam was standing in the doorway and waiting for him to come inside. John walked inside and, for a reason that escaped him, he shook out his fur. Sam closed the front door and quickly toed the salt line back into place, then walked into the small living room with the stained and ratty couch that Dean had aptly described when they’d arrived as ‘the color of split pea vomit’. Sam sat on the floor in front of the couch, crossing his legs and patting the floor next to him.

 

“Come on, buddy. I won’t hurt you.”

 

John walked over to Sam, and Sam stroked his fur again. That feeling of peace washed over him again, and John wished he could recreate it. The last time he remembered feeling this content was with Mary. Sam stopped petting him and started to pick things out of his fur.

 

“I think you need a bath.” Sam said, mostly to himself. For a long few moments, they sat there in silence, Sam picking out clumps of dirt and leaves and sticks out of John’s fur, John very nearly falling asleep under Sam’s tender care. Sam finally stopped and asked, “Can I pick you up? You’re not gonna bite me or anything, are you?”

 

John put a paw on Sam’s leg, hoping he was telling Sam it was alright to pick him up. Sam stood up, then leaned down and picked John up off the floor.

 

“You need a name. Why don’t we talk about that while I’m giving you a bath?”

 

Sam took John into the bathroom, and John got a glance of himself in the bathroom mirror. _Why the hell couldn’t she have turned me into something at least a little bigger? A pit bull? A rottweiler? A golden retriever? Nope, bitch had to turn me into an ugly, yappy chihuahua._

_If Dean finds out…_

 

The thought of what would happen if Dean found out his predicament was cut off by the sound of running water. Sam was testing the temperature of the water, adjusting the knobs and sticking his hand under them and keeping them there for a few seconds. He ran the water for just under a minute, then reached down to pick up John. John backed away; he wasn’t in the mood for a bath now.

 

“It’s okay. Come on. You need a bath.”

 

John let out what he assumed was a bark, but sounded more like a squeak. Sam gave him a warm, understanding smile.

 

“Sorry. I don’t like being bossed around either. But I promise you’ll feel better after I give you a bath. I’ll be real gentle. The water’s warm, and it’ll warm you up. Promise.”

 

John approached cautiously, and Sam lifted him up and placed him in the water. Surprisingly, the water was very warm, and Sam was very gentle giving John the bath. As he dried John off with the towel, Sam finally asked,

 

“Hey, I’ve got an idea for your name. How do you like Felix?”

 

 _That’s actually not bad,_ John thought.

 

“It means lucky in Latin.”

 

John was impressed. Sam spent much of his time studying Latin, and he did an amazing job with it. But John thought that Sam hated it. He had considered suggesting Sam study Latin in general, as a sort of compromise on their constant fight about studying it for exorcisms and use in hunting versus Sam’s need to learn things just because he found it fun. But every time he thought about bringing it up to Sam, they would either be in the middle of a hunt and he would need Sam completely focused, or they’d be in the middle of another fight about Sam being able to do ‘normal’ stuff. John gave a little squeak of approval at Sam’s choice.

 

“You like it? Good.” Sam reached out a hand, which John slipped a much too small paw into. “Nice to meet you Felix. I’m Sam. Come on, let’s find you something to eat.”

 

As Sam picked up ‘Felix’ and carried him to the kitchen, John couldn’t help but think to himself _this is gonna be a long night._ But as Sam cut up two pieces of sliced ham and placed them on a paper towel on the floor for him, then almost picked it up and offered to eat it himself if Felix didn’t like it, John was struck again by just how good Sam actually was. John walked up, sniffed the ham, then wolfed it down and looked up at Sam, panting. Sam’s smile was infectious.

 

“Okay. My turn.”

 

Sam fixed himself a sandwich and offered some of it to John, who refused to take it. Sam talked the entire time, and John realized something else. A completely relaxed and happy Sam was a nice sight. Something entirely too rare these days.

 

_Maybe this won’t be so bad._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 4/26/19:  
> I apologize, everyone. I've been severely lacking on updating my fics lately. I have finished a lot of them, just haven't actually posted them. I'll post the rest of this story and what I've finished of Owner of a Lonely Heart tonight. 
> 
> Again, apologies. Life got in the way, big time, but I won't let it tonight.

John decided something on the twenty fourth hour of being in the house with Sam that he was an idiot.

 

It had occurred to him during his journey to find Sam that he could’ve tried to find Dean first. But he’d quickly scrubbed that idea. Dean just wasn’t an animal lover like Sam and, even if John insisted on Dean taking him with him, he knew that Dean was much more likely to, at best, take him to a pound. He’d have a better chance of finding a solution to this if he was with Sam.

 

What he didn’t count on was just how protective Sam would be. John had tried twice to get Sam’s attention, try to show him that he wasn’t a dog, but was, in fact, his father. Sam had caught him, both times, digging through the lore books and trying to find a photo or something else with his name on it so he could show it to Sam. But after the second time, Sam had locked up all the books and materials, much to John’s immense frustration.

 

“You’re a curious little fella, aren’t you?” he’d said with a smile, while John simply huffed.

 

A few minutes after locking the books away, Dean had called. The conversation nearly broke John’s heart.

 

“Sammy, I’m hitting roadblocks finding Dad. Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, Dean. I’m fine.”

 

“You sure? You want me to come home? Send Bobby to you?”

 

“Dean, I’m _fine_. Just find Dad, okay?” Sam insisted.

 

“Okay, okay. You know the rules?”

 

“Salt and lock the windows and doors, and don’t go out unless you say it’s okay, answer the phone when you call. I got it, Dean.”

 

“Alright. I’ll call again tonight, kiddo. Stay safe.”

 

As Sam hung up the phone, John saw it. Though his voice to Dean was full of confidence, his face told a different story. He hung up the phone and took his seat back down on the floor. John walked up to Sam and saw them. Tears starting to flow out, slowly at first, then faster and faster. John whined, and Sam smiled at him.

 

“Sorry, bud. I don’t do too good all by myself.”

 

 _Since when_? John thought.

 

“I’m just worried about Dad. I want him to come home I hate it when we have a fight and he just leaves.” Sam explained. “It makes me scared. My dad’s my hero. What if the last thing he hears is me telling him how much he sucks?”

The awkwardness was actually painful. Sam was spilling his heart out, completely unaware that John could not only hear him, but see him. Sam sniffed and wiped his nose. John was completely lost. It was usually Dean’s job to comfort Sam. And hearing Sam call him his hero was certainly surprising.

 

“I’m sorry, buddy. You must think I’m really weird crying about my family when you don’t really have one.”

 

John just stood there. Over the last year, he’d been leaving Sam alone at home more and more often. He’d thought he was doing the right thing, as Sam was more than capable of taking care of himself. But he’d never thought much about what happened when he was gone. Did Sam cry for him every time he was gone for an extended period? He’d been gone for much longer than two days before, and he’d left after having fights before. Sam reached over and picked up ‘Felix’.

 

“I wish I could keep you. But Dad would flip out if he knew you were here.”

 

John whined a little, but Sam just scratched his belly.

 

“Shh. It’s okay. Don’t worry. Even if Dad makes me get rid of you, I’ll make sure you end up somewhere where you’re taken care of. I won’t let anyone just abandon you.”

 

John suddenly got an idea. He turned around and reached for Sam’s face. He started licking Sam’s cheeks, right where his tears had been falling. Sam started to giggle, and John went faster and faster for Sam’s face. Before long, the two of them were rolling around on the floor, Sam crying all over again from laughing instead of crying. John felt a little like the hero Sam had called him. He was so used to making Sam angry or making him upset, that the feeling of making him laugh made the entire struggle worth it.

 

“Okay, okay. Uncle.” Sam said, pulling ‘Felix’ away from him.

 

John barked and jumped around playfully, and Sam tried to pick him up. John barked and jumped back, and they played a little more, until the sun was starting to go down. When they were both exhausted, John, looking to both give and receive a little more affection from Sam, climbed back up into Sam’s lap and cuddled against his chest peacefully.

 

“Thanks, Felix. I needed that.” Sam said.

 

_Me too, kiddo. Me too. I’ll fix this if I ever get back to normal, I swear._


	4. Chapter 4

“Um, no, of course there’s no dog here, Dean.”

 

“Sam, how long have I been your brother?”

 

“Forever.”

 

“Forever. I can tell when you’re lying, Sam. Now, look. You won’t get in trouble. Just tell me. Is there a dog there?”

 

Sam sighed and looked down to Felix, who was eagerly watching him on the phone. It had been a great three days with him, but he knew it was coming to an end. While Dean might keep his promise about Sam not being in trouble with him, Sam knew that John would be a different story.

 

“Yes, there’s a dog here.”

 

Dean let out a breath of relief. “Okay, Sam. Listen to me. Stay there and make sure the dog doesn’t get away.”

 

“What? You mean I can keep him?”

 

“You know better than that, Sam.” Dean said it patiently, with compassion, but there was also no room for negotiation in his voice. “Look, just trust me, okay? Please? Keep the dog safe. Bobby and I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

 

“Okay, Dean.”

 

Sam hung up the phone and kicked the floor slightly. He should have known that keeping the dog was too good to be true. But he’d allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, it might be possible this time. Sam looked down to Felix, who had his tail tucked between his legs and was looking dejected.

 

“Sorry, buddy. Dean’s on his way home. He says when he gets back, you gotta go.”

 

Felix whined, running around in a circle until Sam picked him up.

 

“Sorry. I can’t really change his mind. But Dean said you don’t have to go till he gets here. That gives us a couple hours.”

 

Sam played a little more with ‘Felix’, who also wanted to savor the moments he had left with Sam. Inside Felix’s brain, John was coming up with ways to talk to Sam about what had been revealed to him over the course of the last couple days.

 

Dean was home just after dark, and Sam picked up Felix to hold in his lap. He kissed Felix’s forehead, and John nearly lost it. Sam was an affectionate boy, but John had been so long without being on the receiving end of that he felt like he didn’t know what he was missing out on. Sam let Dean inside, still holding onto Felix. Dean and Bobby stepped inside, and Dean looked around.

 

“Sam, where’s the dog?”

 

Sam normally would’ve said something sarcastic, along the lines of ‘gee, I don’t know, maybe right in front of you?’ but he didn’t have the heart this time. He set Felix on the floor, preparing to beg to keep him, when Dean suddenly burst into laughter.

 

“Dean, what…?”

 

Even the normally grumpy Bobby was having trouble hiding a smile. “Sam, that’s not a dog.”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s not a dog.” Bobby repeated. “It’s your dad.”

 

“Wha…what? How?”

 

“It’s Dad, Sammy.” Dean said, still laughing so much he could barely breathe. “I swear, it’s Dad.”

 

“Where’d he go?” It was Sam’s turn to laugh this time. He spotted Felix standing next to Dean, one leg cocked in the air. Dean jumped back, worried.

 

“You wouldn’t.”

 

Felix’s only response was to growl.

 

“Okay, okay, Dad. We know how to turn you back.”  


Dean got out a paper and read the words off a spell, and five minutes later, John stood there, transformed as if nothing had ever happened. He was relieved he was back in the clothes he was wearing when the witch had turned him, and he took a minute to savor his surroundings. He was taller than floor level now, and he vowed to never take that for granted.

 

“Dad?”

 

John turned around to Sam, who was staring in shock with tears in his eyes. “Hey, Sammy?”

 

“It was you? The whole time?”

 

“Yeah, buddy. It was. Thanks for taking good care of me.”

 

“Dad?” Dean asked. “What happened?”

 

“Right before we killed the witch, she was muttering something under her breath. I thought she was just trying to make me stop, so I ignored it. But I passed out, and when I woke up…”

 

“You were a long haired rat?” Dean asked.

 

John growled again, but nodded and said, “Yeah.”

 

“Dad, why didn’t you try to find me?” Dean asked. “I was going crazy looking for you.”

 

“I didn’t know how to tell you it was me. And I figured you might take me to a pound or something.”

 

“Good point.”

 

“Dad? Could you…Did you hear everything I said to you?”

 

John took a long time to answer, worrying Sam when he did. John was thinking. He considered fibbing to Sam, telling him that he didn’t entirely remember what Sam had said to him, but he had to address it. He couldn’t leave Sam feeling like he didn’t care.

 

“Dean, Bobby, can you give us a couple minutes?”

 

“Everything okay?” Dean asked, worried that Sam had said or done something and was in trouble now.

 

“It’s fine. I just need to have a little talk with Sam.”

 

“Sure, Dad. We’ll go get some dinner.”

 

Dean and Bobby left, and Sam sat nervously on the couch, waiting for the lecture he was certain was coming. John joined him, leaving a long, awkward silence between the two of them before addressing the elephant in the room.

 

“Sam, I think you know why I want to talk to you.”

 

“Yes, sir. Go ahead.”

 

“Go ahead what?’

 

“Go ahead and yell at me.” Sam said.

 

John smiled. “Why do you think I’m gonna yell at you, son?”

 

“You’re not?”

 

“Nope. Actually I was gonna say that I’m very impressed with you.”

“You are?”

 

“Yeah. I am. You did what you knew was right, even though it might have gotten you in trouble with me.” John said. “Sam, there’s no telling what would have happened to me if you hadn’t taken me in. Thank you.”

 

“Sure, Dad.”

 

“Now. About what you said.” John sighed, then put an arm around Sam’s shoulder. “Let’s start with the ‘I don’t like being bossed around either’.”

 

“Dad…”

 

“Just listen. I know I order you around a lot. And I know I’m not always very nice to you. I need you to understand something, Sam. When we’re training or on a hunt, I _cannot_ go easy on you. You need to listen to what I tell you, when I tell you to do it, no questions asked.”

 

Sam scowled. He should have known that nothing would change.   
  
“Sam, I know you don’t agree with me on that, but I need you to acknowledge me. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Sam said, very reluctantly.

 

“But, when we _aren’t_ on a hunt, I can promise that I’ll do my best to be nicer to you.”

 

Sam looked up, curious. “What does that mean, exactly?” He had learned long ago to make his father be specific when he made a promise.

 

“It means that I still need you to do what I tell you to do, but no yelling, no raised voices, and I promise I’ll _ask_ first instead of just telling you to do something.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really. _If_ you promise me the same.”

 

“Deal.”

 

“Okay. Now, what really bothered me.” John felt a sharp splinter of guilt shoot through his heart as he thought of what Sam had said about John not coming back.

 

“What is it, Dad?”   
  
“Sam, do you really think that I would just leave you and your brother?”

 

Sam squirmed. He’d nearly forgotten about that conversation. “Kind of.”

“Why do you think that?” John asked. He couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice; it stung that Sam would think John would just abandon him permanently.

 

“Well, you never act like you _want_ to be here. Like you want to do stuff with me that doesn’t involve hunting. You act like you don’t care.” Sam swallowed and wiped his eyes, trying furiously to keep the tears that wanted to flow at bay. “Then when I do think you’re finally gonna do something with me, you snatch it away and get mad at me without so much as saying you’re sorry for it.”

 

“I told you I was sorry, Sam.”

 

“No, actually. You didn’t. You told me that you had a hunt and couldn’t go and you’d try to make it up to me later. You always do that.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Make me think that you’ll be there for me and then you blow me off for strangers. That hurts, Dad. And I don’t care if you think this makes me selfish, but they’re more important to you than I am.”

 

“Sam…”

 

“Please let me finish. Dad, please, for once let me talk and let me finish what I’m saying.”

 

Sam’s interruption, which normally would have irritated John to no end, was so calm and respectful yet pained that John just nodded and let Sam finish.

 

“I know you love me, Dad. I don’t doubt that. No matter what I might say when we’re fighting, I do know that you love me. I just want you to be _involved_ a little bit. Ask me about school. What I’m reading, what I’m working on. And pretend you care about it, even if you don’t. Just be my dad sometimes.” Sam could tell wheat he said hurt John, stung him to his core, but it needed to be said. “And the reason I think you’ll just leave one day? Because you’ve been doing it more and more.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Leaving without telling me. Just leaving the house, not even saying goodbye to me or anything. Then when you’re gone, you don’t call or anything. I worry about you, Dad. I know we fight a lot, but I miss you when you’re gone.”

 

“Aw, buddy, I miss you too. Come here.” Sam fought it a little, but John grabbed him in a hug and didn’t let go. “Have I ever told you about my dad?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“When I was eight, he left.”

“Left to go where?”

 

“He said on a business trip. Told me when he came back we’d do something together.” John recalled. “I never saw him again.”

 

“What happened to him?”

 

“I don’t know. He never called, never tried to get in touch with me.” John said. “Sam, listen to me. I know I’m gone more than I’m here. I know I’m not the best dad in the world. But no matter what is going on between me and you, as long as I am breathing, I will always come back to you and your brother. Do you hear me?”

 

“I do. But Dad, if you don’t call, how are we supposed to _know_ you’re breathing if you don’t let us know you’re okay?” Sam asked. He pulled away from John’s hug and looked him in the eye. “I’m not asking for you to call and chat every single day that you’re gone. But can’t you call like, just once a day for a few seconds? Or even every other day? Just say you’re okay and go back to the hunt?”

 

John took a deep breath before answering, considering how best to respond. “As long as it doesn’t put me in a compromising position, I promise I’ll call you at least once a day. If not, I swear it’ll be at least every other day.”

 

Sam nodded. “I promise I’ll try not to fight with you so much. But you promise you’ll call even if we fought before you left?”

 

“I swear, Sam. If you promise to pick up, I promise to call.”

 

“Okay, Dad. Promise.”

 

“Are we good?” John asked.

 

“Yes, sir. We’re good.” Sam laughed again.

 

“What?”

 

“Would you really have peed on Dean’s leg?”

 

“I was aiming for his sock.”

 

Sam snorted. “That’s why you’re my hero, Dad.”

 

John smiled. “Thanks, bud. Come on, let’s go get some dinner.”

 

“Sure, Dad. Let’s go.”


End file.
